


Everything We Ever Thought

by awarblerslament



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarblerslament/pseuds/awarblerslament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To Blaine, Halloween is an international holiday of excuses [...] So being the planner he knows he is, GAP attack and ‘It’s Not Unusual’ performance be damned, Blaine seizes the opportunity with both hands and decides to excuse himself from life and laze the day away with his boyfriend."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything We Ever Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween ~~even though it's over now~~! This was written on Halloween, and I just wanted to write two cute boys cuddling on Halloween in a few hundred words. It turned into thousands of words about two boys cuddling, talking about Halloween traditions and their future, making out and then... yeah. That's pretty much it. Title comes from the song ["Radiation" by I Am Kloot](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dmUnFwkjGk). Concrit is amazing! \o/

To Blaine, Halloween is an international holiday of excuses – it’s an excuse to decorate your house with tacky decorations and pretend you live somewhere that’s one of a kind; it’s an excuse to gorge on as much candy as you can before a possible tooth and belly ache arise; it’s an excuse to pretend you’re something you’re not just for one non-judgemental night, and an excuse to spend more time with that certain someone…

So being the planner he _knows_ he is, GAP attack and ‘It’s Not Unusual’ performance be damned, Blaine seizes the opportunity with both hands and decides to excuse himself from life and laze the day away with his boyfriend.

The beginning of the day is long and it mostly consists of reminding his parents as to where he’s spending the night (with the boy who could be their future son-in-law, he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to damage what bond remains between the three of them and uses the term ‘boyfriend’ instead) and reminders from a stern Burt Hummel before he leaves the house for the evening that he trusts that both his son and his boyfriend will be appropriate at all times and to be aware that he will know if anything has been moved from its original position and _for God’s sake, do not hide from any kids who come knockin’ on the front door demanding candy_.

It’s only when he’s been through what Kurt’s dubbed as ‘Blaine’s Drawer’ (“for future sleepovers,” he told him all those months ago when all that mattered was fitting in with Kurt’s friends and that he was kindasortamaybe falling for a _girl_ ) and the sky is a deep navy, studded with stars and there’s a smattering of clouds that seem to only move as an attempt to hide a brightly glowing moon Blaine’s exactly where he’s wanted to be for what seems like his whole life - a dozy Kurt is curled up at his side, humming along to ‘The Nightmare before Christmas’ as it plays at low volume on the TV in the living room, a bowl overflowing with treats sitting to his left and a conglomeration of what appears to be every blanket, comforter and pillow in the Hummel-Hudson household coats the two of them in a swirl of mismatching colours and patterns…

Blaine just wants to pause time and stay like this forever.

He’s broken out of his thoughts when a duo of knocks is aimed at the front door, followed by giggling and small high-pitched squeals of excitement, and Kurt gives an over-exaggerated sigh as he extricates himself from the mountain of covers and grabs the bowl with haste. Blaine smiles and watches Jack Skellington discover the door to Christmas Town, hearing a muffled cacophony of a door swinging open and “Trick or Treat!” ringing throughout the otherwise empty house and after a few seconds he hears a familiar voice saying farewell accompanied by the slam of a door and Blaine immediately moves to vacate the spot on his right again just in time for Kurt to put the container back to its original position and slump into his boyfriend’s waiting arms.

“You’re doing the next bunch.” Kurt mumbles, head slotting perfectly into the crook of his neck and right foot moving to lock Blaine’s ankle into what would have been a half-vice grip if he wasn’t so exhausted. He just hums lightly in response, hand moving to play with the hair at the nape of Kurt’s neck as the opening chords for ‘What’s This?’ begin to play.

“Why are we watching a movie about Christmas when it’s Halloween?” Kurt asks, voice thick with sleep while moving to nuzzle into the hollow of his collarbone and it takes Blaine a few seconds of _breath breath breath_ before he can reply.

“Because this movie is about both Christmas and Halloween,” he speaks softly, fingers kneading at a knot at the top of Kurt’s spine and giving a lazy smile at the groan he gets in response, “and it’s a tradition. To me, anyway.”

The countertenor nods lightly. “You and your traditions, Mr. Anderson.” He quips, breath hot and heavy at the juncture where Blaine’s neck and shoulder meet and the crooked smile he gives (pressing into his neck, _oh god_ ) at Blaine’s sudden intake of breath at the action sends shivers crawling up his spine.

“Well, of course. Everyone has specific things they do on specific days of the year,” is what he says, trying to hold back memories of watching Jack in the graveyard for the first time during the times when his parents refused to let him go Trick or Treating and when he had to stay in the house while they had their parties to attend and when he was stuck in hospital after the Sadie Hawkins incident a few years ago, choosing to deflect the question hidden in the statement before. “Don’t you have some kind of tradition on this day?”

There’s a silence that lasts a few seconds, filled with synchronised breathing that hits the others skin and hands that wonder under the covers, stilling for fleeting moments at a time before continuing their uncertain circuits, before Kurt decides to speak up. He sits up, posture straighter than before while hands moved to clasp above the covers and teeth clamped unconsciously onto his bottom lip, his glasz eyes stayed trained onto the screen.

“When I was younger, before my mother died,” he begins, fingers meeting in a confusing and somewhat comforting dance, “I used to go around the neighborhood with her while dad stayed inside and prepared a Halloween snack before I went to bed.” Kurt leans back and looks over then, giving him a nostalgic smile. “I used to delay them with stories about who I was that year and how I looked better than any of the other kids - which is true, of course,” Blaine’s grin widens there, hands moving to clasp Kurt’s and fingers intertwining with a gentle squeeze, “so I would go to bed and wake up the next morning, and there was this _smell_ in the air, and it was like a mixture of cinnamon and something that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it just smelt like – “

“Home.” Blaine interrupts before he can stop himself, “It smells like home.”

He purses his lips immediately after that, in case he blurts out how that was the same smell his Grandmother's house used to have every time he visited her before her untimely death, and watches as Kurt gives this smile that’s semi- _really, Blaine?_ and semi-adoration and it’s reserved for _him_.

(It’s also the kind of look that Blaine wants to take a picture off and look at it when he’s having a really _terrible_ day or when his parents look at him with distain as he mentions briefly about his plans of following his boyfriend to New York - )

Then Kurt’s speaking again, looking back at the TV just as Jack is returning home to report his findings to Halloween Town. “Exactly.” He nods, slipping back into his storytelling façade, “I used to come down the stairs to find that she had baked an array of stuff that had been in her mother’s cookbook, just because she _could_ …” There’s a heavy sigh. “And then twelve months later she’s six feet under and my dad has no idea what to do. “ He chuckles humourlessly at that, like it’s some kind of inside joke, “I didn’t go Trick or Treating after that, and there was no cooking when I awoke the next morning. I was devastated because I just couldn’t grasp how much had changed in such a short amount of time.”

He looks back at Blaine, only then noticing the grim smile that his lips had automatically pulled into, removing a hand from its grip on the other man’s to run a thumb over each corner of his mouth while talking, “I was thirteen when I found the book again, covered in dust and at the very back of my mother’s side of the wardrobe, and I remember flicking through it recognising the smell that came from it.” Kurt pulls back, still looking Blaine but this time with a sparkle to his eyes and an easy smile on his face. “Since then I’ve been continuing on that part of the tradition. It’s nice.” He finishes of, shrugging his shoulders and fixing his gaze on one of the cushions that had managed to fall on the floor and completely missing the look that the ex-Warbler shoots his way…

And therefore being completely unaware when Blaine launches himself at his boyfriend.

Kurt gives an indignant squawk of surprise, arms flailing for a second before coming to circle around his other half’s waist seconds before his back has time to meet the sofa. Blaine’s arms around his shoulders make him unable to move until the grip loosens and the other man presses his lightly chapped lips to Kurt’s (steadily increasing) pulse point.

“I love you,” he says, pulling back and looking at him with so much more than anything Kurt was ever expecting to ever get from anyone, and he can’t help but flush lightly in response and rest a hand against the side of Blaine’s neck as he smirks and quips a quick “Even after I tell you nostalgic stories about my mother… _especially_ if you don’t want to hear them?”

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “ _Especially_ after those tales and _especially_ if I don’t want to hear them. Which is never, by the way.” A hand moves towards the small of Kurt’s back instinctually as he lowers his voice, almost as if he’s preparing to tell him a secret. “I love hearing about your mother, and I love you.”

And the countertenor simply beams at that comment and it’s one of the most beautiful things Blaine’s ever seen from this boy so far. “Well, that’s good, because I love you, too, and there’s going to be _plenty_ more stories to tell. You’re going to have to stick around if you want to hear them all.”

A lazy grin is given at the promise of more tales to be told and stories to be spun, and Blaine manoeuvres himself so one arm is still hovering above Kurt’s lower back and the other is cupping one of Kurt’s cheeks. “I hope there’s more traditions involved, too, because so far they sound _delicious_ ,” his voice is husky and thoughtful as he speaks, thumb sweeping backwards and forwards repeatedly against his cheek as he speaks and Kurt moves to place a hand on each thigh with a dreamy look on his face, “and we’ll need to have something to pass down to our children, too.”

He notices the other man quite literally freeze – his breathing becomes literally non-existent, already lax grip on his thighs loosening until they’re practically hovering and the look on his face hasn’t changed since he voiced his thoughts and –

Blaine's pretty sure he’s screwed up again and needs to make this right before things get the chance to become worse.

“…I’ve said too much haven’t I? Look, Kurt, it’s alright if you don’t want to have kids – “

Kurt cuts in with a voice packed with so much disbelief it makes up for its lack of power. “I wasn’t thinking that. I was just…” he seems to unfreeze then, biting at his lip and looking at Blaine in a manner he would deem as _shy_ , “we’re going to need more than baking and a Tim Burton classic to pass onto our offspring, won’t we?”

It’s in that moment everything clicks into place for Blaine – they’re going to go to New York, get an apartment together and then maybe a house and it doesn’t matter where as long as they’re together and children will be on the agenda sometime in the future. They’re going to be _fathers_.

It’s not until a sound of surprise is made against his lips he realises that in all his excitement he’s moved his hand from Kurt’s cheek to the back of his neck and pulled him in for a needy kiss, and so he moves away to look into a pair of wide glasz eyes. “You’re sure about this?” he questions, the sudden desire of needing to know if this is real making a return just like when he confessed both his attraction and love to the man in front of him.

Kurt nods against his hold, hands on Blaine’s thighs tightening on reflex as his gaze refuses to waver. “I – yeah. Yeah, of course I am.” He whispers, giving Blaine a chaste kiss before moving back to stare at him again. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“I know, Kurt, I just…” he pauses, eyes beginning to flick rapidly between his lips and his eyes, “I just needed to know that this was real, I think – “

Before he can get much further, Kurt scoots forward and presses another kiss against his lips, the two of them breathing in deeply through their noses as the first, soft and gentle and rather innocent in its intent, is soon followed by a precession of more insistent ones that cause the hands on Blaine’s thighs to clench on reflex at the fabric of his sweatpants and the previously slackened grip on the small of Kurt’s back to become more sure and steady of its intent. Need and greed become evident in the high keen that erupts from Kurt’s mouth and the guttural groan that is heard when their mouths part for one another and their tongues finally, _finally_ make contact.

Despite the way they’re sitting now, knees touching and heads practically glued together, Blaine needs for them to be so much closer, because Kurt’s _not_ close enough - he’s not burrowed deep enough and spreading under his skin and he’s not filling in the crevices of who he should be and he’s not as _near_ as he needs to be. It’s on instinct that his hands move from their hold on his lower back and the nape of his neck to cup his ass and pull him forward, pleading in such a way that only hands and whines can properly emphasise, and he feels like sobbing with joy when Kurt finally gets what he’s been hinting at and moves to straddle his lap, knees touching the back of the sofa and squeezing at his hips without breaking contact.

They continue for a few minutes, only breaking when Blaine pulls away and begins to pepper kisses across Kurt’s jaw, stopping just above his collarbone. His open mouthed kisses soon become sloppy and his teeth begin nipping and sucking at the delicate skin there soon after, the occasional whine being heard through the blood pounding in his ears and it’s there where the smell of moisturisers and aging books and coffee and distinctly _Kurt_ is at its strongest, making Blaine even more eager to leave what he hopes to be a lasting mark on his boyfriend’s porcelain skin. There’s one hand on Kurt’s shoulder to keep him as close as he can, the other returning to its position at the small of his back and lightly petting the sliver of skin that’s recently become available, and he doesn’t move until he feels satisfied that he’s done a particularly good job on that one area. Blaine leans back to observe his work, humming in approval at the raspberry-hued bruise he’s left on the collarbone, and ignoring the scowl on his other half’s face in favour for worshipping the expanse of skin between Kurt’s neck and his jaw with a smattering of kisses and the occasional nip.

“If my neck is completely bruised tomorrow, I will _kill_ you.” Kurt says, the threat in that statement spoiled by his voice coming out rough and breathless, and he suddenly gulps as Blaine pulls back to give him a look that can only be described as smouldering, pupils blown with a ring of hazel circling it and he can’t just _gaze_ at him like _that_ and expect nothing to happen, before diving into a kiss filled with so much _everything_ it makes Kurt’s stomach flutter pleasantly at the sensation.

They’ve done things like this before – like they're two boys in love and both willing to give as much as they can to the other – but it’s never been like _this_ before. Their breathing is uneven, chests heaving and stuttering and the need to be closer, bigger, _more_ intensifies with every drag of their lips and every sound they manage to steal and swallow from the others mouth. They alternate between biting on a bottom lip and sucking on a tongue and just tasting each other like they’re exploring their mouths for the first and last time, heat pooling quickly in their groins and something unknown tugs impatiently at their heartstrings because it’s not enough and they need to do something to fill this aching want and need _right this second –_

 _Knock knock knock_.

They pull apart at the noise, remembering the film forgotten to make way for the activity they were just partaking in and the task they were given earlier on that day, yet they stay close enough to make out what they can of lust-blown pupils and possible scars that are embedded in the others skin, to learn something new or revisit places they know far too well and to just feel whatever they can…

But the moment’s gone for now, heavily punctuated by another set of knocks at the door, and they both blink back into reality.

“Children.” Kurt sounds breathless as he presses their lips together once more and then rests his forehead against Blaine’s. “Children are a _cockblock_.” Another kiss is given, hands moving to press fleetingly at the back of his burning neck. “Why are we going to have children again?”

Blaine pulls back an inch so he can think without getting lost in the swirl of colours of Kurt’s eyes _again_ , “Because you can bake stuff for them and I can have them watch awesome movies?”

Kurt hums lightly, hands moving from the back of Blaine’s neck to cup either side of his face. “I suppose that’ll do.” He teases gently before moving down to pull at Blaine’s bottom lip with his teeth, things rapidly escalating to the level it was before as their lips part and tongues press together with insistence and it’s too much too fast but it feels _so good_ and –

Another round of knocks are heard, and as much as Blaine would like to spend all evening making out with his boyfriend and ignoring the rest of the world, he doesn’t want his life to end in the hands of Burt Hummel, either. He pulls back with a smack, chest heaving with exertion and he gives Kurt a pointed look because using his voice seems like far too much work at the moment. It takes a second for Kurt to give in to this minor staring contest and he gives a groan, rolling off his boyfriend and into the collection of blankets that have pooled around the two of them. Blaine chuckles, fingers touching Kurt’s knees lightly before giving a croaky “Coming!” to let them know that someone is actually home. A snort sounds out to his right and he looks over to see Kurt pursing his lips and shoulders lightly shaking with laughter, giving a quick “what are you like, you’re a _dork_ and you said _that_ word, oh my god – “ before falling into a pile of giggles.

“And you’re a massive pervert who can’t hear the word _‘coming’_ without bursting into – oh come on, seriously?” Blaine retorts as Kurt holds his hands up to his face in an effort to stifle his giggles and he sighs with the hope it’ll make the rather painful grin on his face disappear. “Right, whatever. I’ll deal with you when these guys are no longer around. Don’t go anywhere!” he finishes, pointing a finger in Kurt’s general direction before grabbing the bowl and eyeing at how much candy the group previous to this one had taken, moving to stand up.

Blaine hears a familiar, yet somewhat infrequent, laugh. “Don’t worry – there’s nowhere else I would rather be.” There’s a groan and a pleasant sigh before “I’m going to be here as long as you want me to be.”

He looks up after Kurt’s done to see what he would say is his favourite Kurt smile (the rare one where his nose crinkles, eyes squint, dimples deepen, lips pulled into a breath taking smile, teeth on show, causing Blaine’s heart to skip multiple beats at the sight) and he feels sad to be taken away from a moment he could quite happily live in forever.

“We’re going to be baking stuff tomorrow, right?” Blaine asks, watching the other man’s face flit between surprise and happiness only to finally settle on content. Kurt nods, looking at Blaine with wide eyes, and his face splits into a grin as the other man replies with a simple “Just checking – traditions can’t be ignored when something’s changed.”

It takes a while, but he finally manages to get his legs working, the languid feeling you get in your limbs whilst enduring lazy autumn evenings with what could be your long-term life partner, and maybe someday husband, being swept away with every stretch Blaine takes and every appreciative leer he receives from the man currently sitting in a place that’s close but not close enough for his liking, and the sounds of an impatient lover watching what he deems to be a pretty amazing movie soon becomes mingled with the impatient chatter of young people and an immature argument about who gets to knock next. Each footstep towards the door is like an insight into the future – the two of them waiting patiently outside houses with their kid (or plural – _kids_ – if that’s what he wants) just looking at each other, being content that everything’s fallen into place and using Halloween as an excuse to reminisce…

 _“I’m going to be here as long as you want me to be”_ He recalls as the door opens and a group of kids yell “Trick or Treat!”

Blaine’s going to assume on good authority that Kurt’s in it for the long haul, too.  



End file.
